


Desire

by silverjewelkitten



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/F, M/M, Sex Pollen, do i give a fuck? no., im sorry, is this cliche? absolutely., sting struggles with shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverjewelkitten/pseuds/silverjewelkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What kind of potions were they making again?” Shit. They were so screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire

How did it turn out like this? The cave collapsed on them, separating Sting and Rogue from their team. The mission was supposed to be relatively simple, not nearly difficult enough to necessitate the involvement of four S class mages, and they had finished it quickly, effectively shutting down the illegal operations of a witch coven. The council had no jurisdiction, since they weren’t technically a guild, so when the townspeople had come to Sabertooth for help, they had accepted it graciously, eager for the opportunity to fight with reckless abandon. 

They’d beaten them easily enough, too easily, in fact, and had all congratulated themselves, thinking the battle was over when the witches had ran out of their lair in droves. Mission accomplished, or so they thought. They hadn’t expected the experimental, and very, very illegal potions to be so dangerous. In retrospect, it was an ill-calculated risk to just destroy the place, but Sabertooth was a raucous guild, almost as notorious as Fairy Tail for their destruction of property, and thus, they did it anyway. 

Their carelessness quite literally blew up in their faces. “Sting-sama!” screamed the celestial mage as she reached for him. She was already in Minerva’s grasp; as she had almost reflexively covered the girl’s body with her own to protect her. Rogue was nowhere in sight, and Sting was terrified. He was the guild master, and he had put them all in grave danger. He reached back to her and their fingers touched for the smallest of moments before the ground shook and he went tumbling backwards. Rocks fell all around them, separating him from his friends, and then everything went black. 

He blinked awake not long after, head still spinning from his fall, and not for the first time; he thanked the powers that be that his magic could cut through the darkness. It was dark as pitch, and he was totally alone. He could barely even smell his guild mates, but he could sense their magic, and sighed out in relief at the realization that they were alive. “Can anyone hear me?” He yelled, wincing as the echo intensified the throbbing of his head. 

He heard rocks shifting, not too far off, and then heard Rogue’s answering call, “Sting?” 

“Hey, man, you ok?” He had to bite back a laugh as he heard Rogue groan. 

“Ow. You are the worst guild master ever.” 

“You’re probably right.” Sting couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was very wrong. He searched out the energy of his friends once again, just to be sure, and sat up, cloaking his arm in light. He sniffed the air, but the smell wasn’t normal. It was almost totally masking his perception of his friend’s scents. Something heady and cloyingly sweet replaced the smell of soil and stale air. “Do you smell that?” He shouted, dusting off his pants and standing. 

“Yeah. What do you think it is?” He heard Rogue walking closer and closer, and even within close range he could hardly smell him. He would know Rogue’s scent anywhere, but something was clogging his senses, making his friend indistinguishable. 

“Don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Rogue came up beside him and Sting nearly dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach, on the verge of vomiting. Rogue was no better, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees. 

“What the fuck.” Rogue panted out, breath ragged and hoarse. From Sting’s magic he could see it: spores floating in the air, clinging to their skin, choking them. “Is it a fungus?”

Something in Sting’s mind clicked. “What kind of potions were they making again?” Shit. They were so screwed.

“Love potions.” Every self-respecting mage knew that love potions didn’t work. The closest thing that could be manufactured was obsession, lust, or idolization. 

Sting wavered on his feet, and Rogue reached out to steady him, and somewhere deep in his mind, Sting knew they couldn’t touch, but it was too late. “Rogue, don’t-“

It was like a sucker punch to the gut, how quickly and violently arousal shot through his body. It’s not like it had never happened before. He was past the point of ever being embarrassed around Rogue, but this was a new, terrifying low. “Buddy, you’re gonna want to step away from me now.” 

“Sting.” Rogue said, hand still fisted in the blond’s shirt. Sting made the mistake of looking at him in the eyes, and if he had any lingering doubt about the effect of the spores, it disappeared. Rogue’s eyes had been overtaken with black, and Sting’s mouth went dry. 

He tried to reason with himself, wanted to explain it away to Rogue. This would’ve happened regardless of who he wound up with down here, it didn’t have to mean anything, but the words fizzled and died in his throat. He was ashamed—hard and aching and ashamed. He had endangered his friends, and now his lust-addled mind was running through scenarios at lightning speed. Rogue’s mouth on his cock, Rogue’s hair in his fists, Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. 

The air was no longer sickening, but intoxicating. He lost all rational thought as he crumbled to his knees. He stripped out of his vest, flesh burning, skin too tight. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Rogue slid to the floor, resting his back against the cave wall, knees drawn up to his chest. Sting had lost his scent before, but now he could practically taste it.   
Had he wanted Rogue before? Yes. Many times he had stroked himself to completion in the guild’s showers after waking in their shared room impossibly hard and wanting. But this, this was something else. Something visceral and raw and insurmountable. He could feel Rogue’s heartbeat, smell his arousal, and he was ravenous. He had never felt such hunger. 

Sting took a deep breath, “Rogue…how do we fix this?” Rogue’s eyes were closed, and he was panting, sweat rolling down his face. He shook his head and cracked an eye open to look at Sting, “You’re the smart one, come on man…”

“You know how.” Sting was a wreck. The prospect flashed before his eyes and he was struck with overwhelming guilt, but desire won out. “We touched. It’s gotta be with each other. ” 

Sting felt dizzy and scared, but he crawled across the floor, each movement agonizing. “I’m sorry.” He groaned, finally close enough to touch. “Can I?” Rogue gulped and nodded. He never wanted their first kiss to be like this, desperate and fumbling, but once their lips touched something primal took over, and he couldn’t pull away for air. Rogue slid his cloak to the ground. Sting’s hands shook as he worked at the fastenings of Rogue’s pants. ‘Don’t make this weird, Sting.’ 

He palmed the heavy weight of Rogue’s cock and watched, rapt, as Rogue’s face contorted in pleasure-pain. He would never see this again, so he committed it to memory. Rogue was so red, face burning, but his eyes bore back at him. Rogue stopped him by the wrist and Sting was overcome with shame. “I’m so sorry.” But Rogue shook his head and simply pulled him in closer. Less intimate, but now their hips were slotted together, and the friction forced a strangled sound from out of his mouth. 

“Like this.” Sting nodded, his hands bracketing Rogue’s face and sliding into his hair. He rested his forehead against his partner’s and huffed out a heavy breath against his mouth. 

“Ah, fuck.” Sting muttered, repositioning himself so that he was straddling Rogue’s lap. Sting pulled his miniscule top over his head and tossed it to the side. Rogue’s hands trailed down his stomach, tender, questioning. 

“I think we should-“ Sting interrupted him, his uncertainty and shame battling with his unquailed desire.

“Stop?” Sting breathed, his cock pulsing and his chest heaving. Rogue pushed him onto his back. 

“We should get undressed. It’ll work better that way.” Sting balked, in disbelief, but he obeyed, his hands tripping over themselves in their haste to remove his pants. Rogue did no better, too impatient to shed the garments completely. His cock sprang free from his boxers and he wasted no time fisting himself and Sting in one hand, pumping them together. Sting’s head tipped back and hit the floor as the air left him in a wheeze. 

It was incredible. Rogue was touching him, his body all hard lines and taut muscle. But he needed more. His touch burned. He ached. “It’s not enough. “ 

Rogue’s breath was ragged and strained, and his hand tightened around them, pumping faster and harder. The pleasure built and Sting’s eyes blurred, so, so close, dangling on the precipice, but no matter how he bucked and writhed, release would not come. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. Besides, the way I feel right now, I’m not sweating the pain.” Rogue looked unsure, but Sting looked like he was already hurting, and there was only one solution. Rogue sat back on his heels and dragged Sting into his lap, his back still resting against the floor. Sting rested his knees on either side of Rogue. He burned with embarrassment, but Rogue’s calloused hands kneaded reassuringly at his thighs. 

“You have to relax.” Rogue said, drawing Sting’s legs up and back, forcing his spine to arch upwards towards him. Sting nodded solemnly and swallowed thickly, nervous like never before. Rogue wanted to do this face to face. He wasn’t turning away, and something about that calmed him to the core. He wasn’t running from the unspeakable tension that Sting had begun to think was merely his imagination. 

Rogue held his fingers to Sting’s mouth, a silent command to suck. Sting reddened further but opened his mouth to the intrusion anyway. He swirled his tongue in between the digits, sucking hard to wet them. Rogue’s fingers pushed deeper and deeper and though Sting fought against the urge, he gagged when the tips tickled his throat. Rogue withdrew them immediately, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of disappointment. “Sorry.” He said, chuckling to offset the awkwardness.

Rogue’s mouth was open, just slightly, and his eyes were half-lidded. “Fuck.” Sting shivered, the word setting all of his skin on fire. Rogue leaned down and captured his swollen mouth in a kiss, deep and wet and hot. Sting’s body folded like a ragdoll, the backs of his knees resting on Rogue’s shoulders. Wet fingers trailed down his side and he gasped as those same fingers deftly found their way to where he needed them most. IF possible his dick hardened further, angry and red against his stomach. 

Rogue’s slick fingers pressed inward experimentally, and Sting willed his body to stop fighting against him, but the tight ring of muscle still constricted. Rogue stilled immediately and Sting groaned in frustration. 

“It’s okay, just do it.” Rogue looked conflicted, so Sting rolled his hips back and Rogue’s pointer finger slid inside him to the first knuckle. The stretch was unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant. Maybe it was the effect of the spores, but he needed more, and fast. Rogue needed no more encouragement, pushing his way through until he reached the junction of fingers. 

Rogue bit his lip and his cock throbbed. He ached. A second finger joined the first, too quickly, and Sting’s eyes wrinkled in discomfort. Rogue nuzzled his neck apologetically, slowing his pace. “I’ve never done this before. I’m sorry.” 

Sting chuckled and took a deep breath, “It’s okay, man, me either.” But oh had he dreamed about it. Rogue rutted against him, too worked-up to care how silly it looked. All the while, his fingers bent and stretched, faster and faster. Sting’s heart raced and pounded in his ears, chest burning, but more with exertion than shame. He was stretched full and wide. Filled in a way that he had never felt or dreamed of. His cock dribbled clear onto his stomach, and Rogue’s fingers hit something inside that made his vision go totally black. Even with his magic, he was blind, unable to ground himself. “Ryos.” He murmured, hips jerking and release, finally, blessedly coming.

White tracks of come splashed onto him, painting him like a canvas. Rogue looked at him in awe. He would work up the courage to feel embarrassed later, but Rogue was still hard against him, and what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t help him? “Rogue. It’s okay. Even if it hurts, let me help you.”

“Sting.” He said against his mouth, his hands sliding up to grasp his hips. “I don’t think I can hold back.”

“Then don’t.” Sting answered, endlessly fond and trusting. Rogue positioned the head of his cock where his fingers were moments before and bucked forward, the swollen tip of him squeezing through with a squelch. He buried his face in Sting’s neck and wordlessly moaned as his hips pistoned forward the rest of the way. Sting grit his teeth and shut his eyes tightly, hands scrabbling over Rogue’s back for purchase. It hurt. Of course it did. The lingering effects the pollen had on him had worn off, but Rogue was suffering and he was the only one who could help him. 

Rogue petted his hands through Sting’s hair and murmured apologies into his collarbone, even as he bucked his hips forward shallowly, still trying his damnedest to be gentle. “God. You’re so tight.” And to Sting it felt like praise. He rolled his hips back and met Rogue thrust for thrust. The discomfort and pain lessened gradually and they settled into a rhythm. 

Rogue could feel it, the tingling in his spine, the stuttering of his hips, all telltale signs that he was close. He leaned down and took Sting’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, tongue laving across his swollen bottom lip before slipping inside the warmth of his mouth. Sting bit down on Rogue’s lip and tugged, releasing it with a pop. “Ha, come on, stop holding back.” 

Sting could feel the stirring of arousal in his belly, this time purely his own. Now wasn’t the time to get greedy, best to move it along. Rogue’s hips thrust wildly, all pretense of apprehension absent. He was too far-gone, consumed with wanton desire. Sting was merely along for the ride as Rogue held him down and fucked him without restraint. It kind of hurt still, but mostly it was bliss. To see him let go, to act regardless of the consequences, to live in the moment. Sting was enraptured by this side of him, transfixed by the furrow of his brow, the dull ache in his thighs and back felt more like satisfaction than pain. His cock, fully hard now, felt over-sensitive and urgent, and Rogue didn’t have to know that the pollen wasn’t affecting him anymore. It didn’t matter. He gripped himself in his hand and stroked in time with Rogue’s hips against the flesh of his ass. 

It was too dry and lacked intimacy or context, but still Rogue keened to him and shuddered as he came. Rogue’s hips jerked one last time, and he settled, breath coming in gasps, his chest heaving. Sting focused on the foreign sensation of Rogue’s softening, sticky length inside of him, and worked himself faster, panting and shaking. “Let me.” Rogue spoke, his voice destroyed. His hand wrapped around Sting’s own and they worked together to get him off. When he did, he flopped backwards onto the ground, his legs slipping from Rogue’s shoulders.

“Fuck.” Sting groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes. “We really need to find the girls.” Maybe they would discuss it later, and maybe they wouldn’t, but for now they closed off from one another. Sting stood and collected his discarded clothes, dressing quickly. He was sore, but not unbearably so, and he could passably walk as if nothing happened. Rogue did up his pants and dusted himself off before throwing his cloak back over his shoulders. They didn’t look at each other.

They walked in silence, Sting’s magic lighting the way through the winding tunnels of the cave. “Yukino, M’lady!” Sting called, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. After twenty minutes or so they began to hear shuffling ahead of them, and soon after, Yukino and Minerva turned a corner and spotted them. 

“Tch. Idiots, we were looking all over for you.” Minerva spit out. 

“I’m sorry.” Sting said, scratching the back of his head, wide smile plastered on his face. Yukino looked on the verge of tears, but she was smiling, and they were all safe, which is all that mattered to Sting. 

Minerva looked…frazzled, to say the least. Come to think of it, so did Yukino. He would never have imagined that they got caught in the pollen as well. Fuck. Sting nervously laughed, and thought it for the better to never ever, bring up what happened down here. 

“Did you two happen to find a way out?” Rogue asked, and Yukino flushed prettily. 

“No. We were…otherwise occupied.” Minerva went red and looked at the ground. She looked up again; at the state of disarray Sting and Rogue were in and smirked. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones.”

Sting swallowed. Now there was an image that would haunt him for years to come. If only they’d all gotten trapped together. ‘Ah, best not to say that out loud.’ They left the cave, collected their reward, and tried very hard not to acknowledge that something fundamental had changed between them.

Rogue turned to him as they were walking out of the cave, silently asking him to catch up, and Sting realized that no matter what happened, they were good. Rogue would never judge him. His lady and their princess would not abandon them. Their guild would wait for them regardless. He smiled, and jogged to catch up, so he could walk beside them, and he swore to himself that he always would.


End file.
